Ali Al-Fayyumi, May 2, 2024

This is the testimony of Ali Al-Fayyumi, a municipal worker in Gaza City, on continuing to work throughout the aggression and loss of three of his sons. The testimony was filmed by Al-Jazeera and posted on the social media platform X by the Gaza Municipality on May 2, 2024, on the occasion of International Labor Day.

Translated by Fawwaz Abughazaleh

I have now lost… three sons, may they rest in peace. One, during this war, on October 17, 2023 and another on December 13. And one in 2004—Ahmad, may he rest in peace. I also have a son who remains injured and in need of a CT scan and X-rays, but we can’t find anywhere to scan him.

Anyway, on October 17, while we were operating [heavy] machinery—while I was working the equipment at Adour Bakery in Al-Shawwa Square—our area was hit… it was as if something was choking us. I was suffocating. Anyway, I pulled out my phone and called and called until my brother, Muntasir, picked up. “What’s the matter?” I asked him, “I see everyone rushing towards us.”

“Your children were all martyred,” he told me.

Yes...

I drove the equipment over and parked it here at the garage and explained to the person in charge what had happened. “Just go,” he told me. I stepped out of the rig and started running. But instead of heading to Al-Shifa [the Shifa Medical Complex] that way; I ran over there and wailed under a tree. A man who recognized me asked me, “What’s wrong with you, Abul-Fayoum? What’s the matter?” I told him: “By God, my children were all martyred.”

He asked, “So where are you running to?” “I'm going to Al-Shifa,” I explained. He said, “Al-Shifa is this way; get in the car,” and he gave me a lift. We buried Muawiya. We saw that they had washed and shrouded his body. So we buried him. I returned to work to close shop after. My job is to keep people out of harm’s way but I don't know what that means [anymore]. People tell us, “May God bless you,” but I swear I [just] don’t know.

As for my other son, Qusay… When our house was bombed, we were displaced to the Abdel-Fatah Hammouda School in the Yafa neighborhood. He went out in the afternoon to get some firewood as his mother needed to bake. Poor thing. He and his cousin, Abed’s son, were caught off guard by one of those shrapnel bombs. Yes… In the evening, we took him to the hospital. They said, “Sir, this person is dead.” He couldn’t make it in time. The next morning, we buried him in Fatima Al-Zahra Cemetery, over there [he points with his hand]. After burying him, I returned to work and closed shop…

I shrouded and buried them—may they rest in peace—and I returned to work. It’s been months of war working without receiving a full salary, except for basic advance payments. Yet, we remain at work until our last breath. It feels good to work and serve one’s homeland and people. I mean, we’re staying here in refugee schools, with mosquitos killing us, manure and overflowing sewage surrounding us, and crumbling infrastructure… We can’t bear it. Everywhere around us, there is no machinery to lift the rubble, no cars. The [occupation forces] bombed, destroyed, and burnt it all. People are burning garbage; the smoke is also causing disease. On every International Labor Day, we take a break, except for nowadays when we work, serve the people, and do our job just like everybody else.

Ayyad Family, April 18, 2024

This is the story of the martyrdom of the Ayyad family, who was martyred in a room east of Rafah, after the Israeli occupation forces bombed the city. The testimony was filmed by Hassan Aslih and posted on the social media platform X by Quds News on April 18, 2024.

Translated by Fawwaz Abughazaleh

The Ayyad family was displaced from Gaza [City]. All family members were martyred. The entire family was erased from the civil registry in this locality. The family was displaced over ten times. They were found in this agricultural field—nine martyrs: mostly children and their father, mother, and aunt.

May God grant them patience; the entire family has been erased from the civil registry. The Ayyads resided in eastern Gaza City, in the Zeitoun neighborhood. After being displaced ten times, they were martyred today in the Al-Salam neighborhood of Rafah, in this locality, in this pit. The family has been torn to shreds down there.

Nour Mattar, April 10, 2024

This is the testimony of Nour Mattar, a child who was saved from under the rubble. The testimony was given at the European Hospital in Khan Younis and first posted on the social media platform X as a video by Al Qastal News on April 10, 2024, on the occasion of Eid Al-Fitr.

Translated by Fawwaz Abughazaleh

Interviewer: How are you, Nour?

Nour: Al-Hamdillah, thank God.

Interviewer: Do you have anything to say this Eid?

Nour: I’d say Eid is a feeling. I don’t have that feeling at all. I’m not excited or anything. I am not happy, not at all. How could Eid come to us when my brother is not in my life anymore? May he rest in peace, my brother—he, my nephew, and my sister-in-law. My little nephew got to witness Eid only once in his life—not one Eid beyond that. Right now, I don’t feel excited. Is excitement merely about dressing up and that’s it? Ya’ni how could I… How could Eid come while rockets fly over us? We are exhausted, living the past six months under bombardment and rubble.

When I experienced the bombing, I felt the earth pulling me in. I felt an earthquake. I felt rocks falling on me. I said my final prayers. My uncle rescued me at the last moment. He rescued me and took me to Al-Awdah Hospital. They said my case was critical. It was so critical that I wanted to be martyred, to just die. I was transferred to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital and, given my critical condition, I was sent off to the operating room where they operated on me for two hours. I stayed [at Al-Aqsa] for 18 days. I was told that they weren’t sure how to manage my case, given how severe it was. We made it to the European Hospital, which was better equipped. I wish to thank the medics at the European Hospital who treated us so well. I wish I could see my brother, to see him on the first day of Eid. I wish he could get me a mobile phone as mine was wrecked in the war, along with my toys... I had been saving for a mobile. I had even bought one but it was bombed in the war. I didn’t get to enjoy it.

Hadeel Al-Dahdouh, March 31, 2024

This is an excerpt of the testimony provided by Hadeel Al-Dahdouh, the only woman in a truckload of Palestinian prisoners taken hostage by the Israeli army on December 6, 2023. The account recalls details of torture and abuse that Al-Dahdouh experienced while held captive. The full video testimony was uploaded on YouTube by by AlJazeera Arabic on March 31, 2024.

Translated by Jehan Bseiso

The whole world saw my photograph: the only woman among 100 male prisoners—that was me. They put me in a military troop carrier, and they pulled off my veil. The photo was published for everyone to see. If you want to know my story, follow along...

My name is Hadeel Al Dahdouh. I am 24 years old. I am married and have two young boys—a four-year-old and a nine-month-old. On December 6, 2023, in Al-Zaytoun, [Israeli soldiers] blasted down the wall in our neighbor’s house and stormed in. They forced us all outside to the street. They blindfolded the men and took them away. The women sat on the pavement, our hands in the air.

The officer called me.

“What’s your name?”

“Hadeel Al Dahdouh.”

“Come here.”

They took me away. My son was crying.

“Give the boy to his grandmother.”

“Why?”

“I want to take a [blood] sample from your hand. In a half hour you’ll be back with your son.”

I started to cry. I was terrified… They suspected my children [were not my own, that they] were actually among those abducted by Hamas on October 7. I was taken with the men. I sat next to my husband, my father-in-law, and my uncle. We were with other men I didn’t know; I was the only woman. They hit the men and forced them on the floor. We were blindfolded and injected with drugs. They started asking us about the 7 of October:

“Who do you know in Hamas?”

“Where are the tunnels?”

“Are you with Hamas?”

Each time I said “No” or “I don’t know,” I was hit. I asked them to loosen the blindfold, it was so tight, my lashes burst into my eyes. I thought I was going blind.

The next day, they took us to a home where prisoners were held. There were more than 100 men, sitting only in their underwear, bruised and beaten. My hands were tied up; they threw feces at me; their military dogs were barking. They hit me on my back with the butts of their rifles. The officer had a metal object in his hand, he kept hitting me with it. He beat me on my head, he kicked me with his boots. He kept insisting “You are Hamas,” and hurled obscenities at me.

On the third day, they put us in a hole in the ground, like a big grave. All of us, lined up, more than 100 men and me. Military tanks, bulldozers, and other vehicles were lined up beside us and above us, circling the pit. Tanks and bulldozers dumped sand on us. It began on the side where my father-in-law was. He was being buried before our eyes and we were next. “I’m choking! Come, help me up! Help me up!” he cried.

Each time I tried to get up and help him, the soldier would beat me back down.

“Sit, I told you, don’t move,” he cursed at me.

“What are you going to do with us?”

“I want to bury you alive,” he said. “And let the dogs eat you.”

Devastated, I begged him to shoot us. “We can’t bear this death,” I cried.¹

Dr. Mahmoud Hammad Al-Sharafa, March 14, 2024

This is the testimony of Dr. Mahmoud Hammad Al-Sharafa, shared from Gaza City, regarding the difficulty of his work following the occupation’s destruction of every hospital in Northern Gaza and near-total blockade of medical aid into the area. This testimony was first uploaded as a video on Instagram by Filastiniyat/ فلسطينيات on March 14, 2024.

Translated by Meriam Soltan

Dr. Mahmoud: Bismillah Al-Rahman Al-Rahim, I am Dr. Mahmoud Hammad Al-Sharafa. I’m speaking from a medical center at Fahed Al-Ahmad Al-Sabbah School. This used to be the school laboratory, and we’ve since adapted it into a center to treat those staying at the school and in the surrounding area. If we were to talk about the situation present at the school… It’s incredibly difficult. As for medical and health treatment, even wound dressings are scarce. This limits how we are able to provide effective treatment and medication to people. The situation is especially tough.

Beyond this, we are in an area under heavy bombardment. Ya’ni, wounded people from distant areas come to us for treatment. We want to be able to go to them but, the intense bombing and the like, it’s frightening… We fear it; we fear for our lives; we fear for the lives of others. Ya’ni, we can’t even begin to describe the extent of pain and suffering, even the suffering one feels when they are unable to heal or fulfill the duty, promise, oath of their profession… This is a very difficult situation, and we ask that God grants us all ease. We ask Him to extend his grace so that we might continue to heal people, and that He embraces us all in health and safety. May God be with us all.

Interviewer: Has anyone ever come to you that required hospitalization?

Dr. Mahmoud: Many, many, many people… We’ve even had cases where, ya’ni, people died because we are missing the most minor tools here at the clinic. If we had had them, these patients would still be alive, still be among us. This reality leaves a lump in our throats. May God bring ease. There are so many cases that demand help… but may God help us.

Interviewer: Tell me, more generally, about the lack of resources.

Dr. Mahmoud: Ya’ni, if we were to talk of wound dressings, some will come to change their bandages and find nothing. Things like gauze, iodine, saline, and basic medical solutions are often unavailable. And, day after day, things only get worse. People come and we have to tell them we’re out of wound supplies. It’s so difficult: their wounds could get infected, and we might be forced, in the future, to cut into them and remove body tissue. This is the result of a great lack: a scarcity of tools and supplies. As for medication, where do I begin? Painkillers, antidiarrheals, antiemetics… We no longer speak of these because they are completely unavailable. But we try to provide what we can given this reality. May God be with us.

Interviewer: Are there any diseases that have spread because of these shortages?

Dr. Mahmoud: Yes, of course. We have encountered many cases of stomach flu; intestinal parasites have spread massively. Influenza and colds are also greatly spreading, as are stomach illnesses because they are inherently contagious. With people so crowded, infectious diseases spread quickly.

Interviewer: What is the most difficult thing you have encountered, something you are not able to forget?

Dr. Mahmoud: There was a case that came to me… an injured man walked in with shrapnel in his neck. We rushed to get him to a hospital because he required emergency surgery. We knew that we would not be able to do anything for him: we do not possess the necessary devices here in our facility. We tried to get him out of our facility [and to the hospital]; we got as far as the car but he suffocated from the amount of blood pooled in his throat. We tried to save him, to do what we could… He died in our arms. He suffocated. May he rest in peace. This is an encounter I won’t forget.

Those of us here, we ask that patients in serious conditions make their way to hospitals, even if there is a great lack of medical resources there too. We try to provide treatment to those in need of stitches; we try to provide basic doctoring and medical consultations. That’s all available here. As for the extreme cases… We do what we can and the rest is on God. May He help us.

Interviewer: Do people come back to clinics like yours when they find no hospitals?

Dr. Mahmoud: Of course. This area is cut off. The nearest existing hospital is the Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital, which is a ten- or fifteen-minute car ride away. So people from Jabalya [refugee camp] come to us, and people from Al-Zarqa. They come to us from other schools too, from Dar Al-Arqam School. All those in the Tufah area come here as well, despite the lack of resources. We are trying our best to help everyone. May God help us.

Subhi Ahmad Hussein, February 10, 2024

This is the testimony of Subhi Ahmad Hussein Amer from the Nuseirat Refugee Camp on how the occupation’s tanks carved out the land in Khan Younis, burying his neighbors alive. It was first published by the Palestinian Independent Commission for Human Rights on February 10, 2024.

Translated by Fawwaz Abughazaleh

On December 1, 2023, we were displaced from our home in Nuseirat. Leaflets were dropped over us, bearing threats to evacuate. The occupation artillery units were approaching and the shelling was intensifying. I took my wife, children, and ten grandchildren in a taxi to Khan Younis to my daughter’s house in the Al-Amal neighborhood. We stayed there for about two months until January 25, 2024, the day the occupation tanks surrounded my daughter’s house. We were surprised to find the tanks at her doorstep at 7:30 am sharp. We were all trapped at home, unable to leave while the occupation tanks wrecked a nearby kindergarten and several adjacent houses, including a plot of land where 14 people were living. From our house, we witnessed the occupation bulldoze the land while they were there, still alive. They were buried alive in the sand, where they were sheltering in an asbestos-filled room. We heard their voices; they were calling out for help with phrases like “Oh God, oh God.” Suddenly, their voices stopped as they were mercilessly buried alive in the sand. Most of them were children, with the eldest no more than 13 years old. We were too terrified to leave the house or make a move. We stayed there until the morning.

The next day, again at 7:30 am sharp, they tore down our house’s outer wall, the red brick entrance, and the front door, and towed my son-in-law’s car out from the garage and buried it in gravel. When the bulldozing began, we were terrified. I decided to go out to them alone carrying a white flag. I headed toward the enemy tanks and begged them in Hebrew to not harm us and to spare my family. They then ordered us to come out. The women were forced to go to the Khan Younis industrial area, and they took the men to an adjacent house. They handcuffed some of us with plastic zip ties, stripped us of our clothes, and then released dogs on us. The dogs had bridles on their mouths. They kept us in the room from 8:00 am until 4:30 pm without interrogating us. At about 11:00 am [the next day], they took us to another house, where they confiscated our personal belongings, interrogated us, checked our data, and arrested four of us, including Doctor Osama Al-Shana and three brothers from the Abu-Hayya family. They did not provide us with any water the entire time we were detained, and only offered one small piece of bread for all of us to share.

At 1:00 pm, they returned our identity cards and ordered us to leave towards the industrial area. Two hours after we arrived, the occupation forces demanded the evacuation of the industrial area via the safe corridor. We left without anything, under fire and gas bombs. Several hours of suffering and mistreatment later, we reached the Al-Mawasi area of Rafah, where we are currently staying in poor, disastrous living conditions, lacking any basic life-giving necessities.

Tamam Musa Hamdan Al-Deiri, February 10, 2024

This is the testimony of Tamam Musa Hamdan Al-Deiri from Al-Zaytoun neighborhood in Gaza City regarding the bombing of Al-Iman Mosque and Al-Deiri’s survival and displacement. This testimony was first published by the Palestinian Independent Commission for Human Rights on February 10, 2024.

Translated by Mahdi Sabbagh

On Monday October 23, 2023, at 9:30 am, Al-Iman Mosque was bombed. The mosque was right next to our building, less than a meter away from us. It was hit by a missile from an F16 aircraft. The building’s three stories and six apartments collapsed on top of us. There were about 100 people under the rubble. Thirty-six people resided in the building, and more than sixty were taking refuge with us because they had been displaced. Three of the apartments were destroyed completely, the other three partially damaged. When it happened, I was making bread in my apartment on the ground floor. At first, I didn’t feel anything, just the debris falling on us. I went blind and I couldn't hear anything except for a faint rattle. I felt very cold. I thought I had been martyred, or that I was dreaming. Seven of my family members were martyred that day: my grandchildren, all still children, including Mahmoud Saleh Mahmoud El-Deiri, Mahmoud Muhammad Youssef Al-Deiri, Alaa Ibrahim Al-Deiri, Mahmoud Ahmad Al-Deiri (who was just seven months old), Mahmoud Hamadeh Ahmad Al-Deiri, and Siham Mahmoud Al-Deiri.

More than an hour had passed under the rubble before I was found. But it was difficult to remove the debris that covered me because it included concrete columns. They took me to Al-Shifa Hospital and I stayed there for ten days, until November 3, 2023. That is the day... that the occupation began to attack the hospital’s surroundings. The martyrs piled up in and around the hospital. That is what displaced us to the south of Gaza. We took a rented car and drove by the sea. In front of the Sama Gaza Hall, our car’s wheel was hit by a projectile from the military artillery. We looked at each other as the car began to wobble because of the hit. We decided to continue driving even as the car was about to slip off the road, even as the bombing did not stop. At that stage, I had become disabled because of my injuries from the rubble. I could not have walked.

In the afternoon we arrived at Hamad City in Khan Younis. There I was able to sit in my daughter’s apartment in Tower Number 3i. We stayed there until December 1, 2023. That is the day that the towers in Hamad were slated for evacuation. The day that the occupation bombed twelve towers in one attack. The Red Cross informed us of the immediate need to evacuate the entire Hamad complex. The occupation dropped leaflets on us telling us to evacuate the complex. That day we left using another rented car towards the Khan Younis industrial area. Then on December 21, 2023, we were displaced again when the bombing of that area intensified including violent artillery shelling. We took a car to an area called the Saudi neighborhood in Tal El Sultan in Rafah. Here I now live in a tent, three by five meters without basic necessities for life. I find it difficult to do my daily tasks or meet my needs because of my injury.²